There are students who find life beyond Red Solo cups
By Alex Stratyner
It’s Friday night, and John, a junior at Haverford College, is hiding in a cabinet.
This is no small feat for a fully grown twentysomething male, but so far his plan is working: it’s been over 15 minutes and no one has found him.
Outside, parties are in full swing. Students who have spent the past five days walking to and from class and the library have put their academic commitments on hold.
Tonight, they are pursuing something different and far more easy to define than the illusive “intellectual commitment” that consumes their academic work week.
They want to get wasted. Shit-faced. Trashed. Smashed. Blasted. Hammered. Drunk.
Call it what you want, but it comes in a red Solo cup.
Dressed in their Friday night best, students filter in and out of dorms, headed toward wherever the sound of muffled dance music is coming from, the bass vibrations guiding the way. Girls spotted in sweat pants during the week have pulled their high heels out of the closet and now have smoky eyes, pouty lips, and styled hair. Their shoes clack against the sidewalk as they make their way toward the night’s destination.
For many of these 18 to 22-year-olds, what’s in store for tonight is illegal, but underage drinking – and any of the poor choices to follow – are explained away with six little words: “It’s part of the college experience.”
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